bruised

Today I feel like I have a slight bruise somewhere but I can’t find it...
I’m still sad, resembling the nectarine I’m determined to finish eating though its skin is soft and its middle is hard, and the sweetness is gone.

* * *

Last night I slept on three disfigured and mismatched couch cushions. I slept straight and long (not my usual style) and with both hands by my side, so as not to let my skin scratch on the carpet. I’m warming to my new room, which I never thought possible, as I am so warm to it already, and have slept with my head to the north, east and west… I liked east the best, I wonder if that is allowed in the lore of feng shui.

(Once I worked on a project where there was a feng shui consultant (master), it was the most un-relenting and hardest things to negotiate… sectors, numbers, brass and water. Completely dependent on the individual and what numbers were in what sectors, not just a flower here and a couch there.)

* * *
so… the view… deliriously sunny, the flag on the I&G building (Collins st) is blustering and flapping like the lady that ran for the tram this morning, tapping and waving through the doors at victoria st, and I reckon the heat will be blistering outside.

When I sat down earlier there were single feathers gliding through the air, 11 floors high, perhaps a bird died somewhere.

* * *
the pip lies on the desk